


(Not) Alone Time

by sunalso



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AoS Smut Week 2019, F/M, Science Babies, Season/Series 01, Tea, The Bus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 18:00:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20295661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunalso/pseuds/sunalso
Summary: S1 AU. Jemma needs some alone time. Fitz needs to discuss his latest idea with her.Beta'd by Gort





	(Not) Alone Time

Alone time on the Bus was hard to come by.

Jemma hadn’t thought of that until the first time she’d found herself in desperate need of an orgasm.

Wanking in her tiny bunk was never easy because she had to be dead silent while doing it, but when she had the opportunity, she’d take it.

Like tonight. They were somewhere over the Pacific Ocean, and it was “night” on the plane. Everyone should be asleep. Jemma had spent the day in the lab as usual, thankfully with no pressing issues. She’d used the time between missions to work closely with Fitz on refining the night-night pistols.

Literally close, side-by-side at a workbench.

Under her thin camisole, her nipples tightened.

He’d smelled good, and had been so animated as he talked, his eyes bright and smile wide.

Her pussy throbbed.

Damn it. Jemma didn’t want to wank to thoughts of her best friend again.

She needed a nice, safe, fantasy, like…like…

She gave up. Gripping her breast with one hand, she sent the other under the waistband of her pajama shorts to find her clit.

It was already full when she touched it, and she squirmed as she stifled a moan.

Thankfully, her libido was revved up, and she didn’t need much of a fantasy. She went for an old standard, now updated to include the mobile lab.

Fantasy-her pushed a started fantasy-Fitz against a workbench, kissing him roughly as she undid his trousers.

Jemma’s fingers pushed hard at her clit as she imagined yanking his trousers and pants down to his knees. In her imagination, they were far too desperate for each other to bother getting anything off, and fantasy-her didn’t care about lab safety and always wore a tiny skirt with no knickers. It was more convenient.

This fantasy had been a tad better when she’d had a dildo to play with.

Her body heading towards overheated, Jemma pushed her covers off and kicked off her pajama pants. In her imagination, fantasy-Fitz pushed her back onto the workbench, glassware crashing to the floor, and climbed on top of her. He pushed his cock deep into her in a single stroke.

In reality, all she had was a finger, and it was not nearly enough, even when she added another. Her thumb was still on her clit, and she pinched her nipple. Needs must, she supposed.

Jemma bit her lip and returned to her fantasy, which was all desperate fucking and frenzied snogging. Her eyes squeezed shut as she worked towards an orgasm.

Her hips lifted off the bed as she shagged her hand with abandon.

In her imagination, fantasy-Fitz was panting as he thrust into her, his eyes full of something warm and promising.

“Jemma?”

She moaned. “Yes, Fitz.” Her body was coiled tight, her hips rolling frantically as she fingered herself.

“Jemma!”

Her eyes opened in shock right as she came. Oh dear. That was Fitz. In her bunk, looking like a deer in the headlights.

She groaned softly as her pussy pulsed around her fingers, spurred on by the person of her fantasies being right there, with his curls adorably mussed and the faintest shadow of stubble on his cheeks. She wanted to crawl into his lap and hide in his arms.

Her mind abruptly kicked back into gear, and she yelped, yanking the blanket over all of her, including her face. “Why are you in my bunk?” she asked.

“I…er…question…gun…thing...have…toxin?”

Jemma peeked at him, her eyes just past the edge of the quilt. “Are you okay?”

He hadn’t moved and was still standing here, tablet in hand. “Uh.” His gaze didn’t seem to be focused.

“Fitz, are you okay?” She sat up, the quilt pooling around her waist. He blinked, and his line of sight fixed right on her chest. To her horror, when she looked down, she realized the top of the camisole was twisted, and one of her boobs was hanging out. Terrific. He’d walked in on her mostly undressed and wanking. Her cheeks heated. She looked down at her hands, which were digging into the quilt. “Fitz, say something. I think I might pass out from embarrassment.”

“Uh…well…boobs.”

Her head snapped up, and she yanked her shirt back into place having forgotten, yet again, that it was crooked. The automatic door closed behind Fitz. He still wasn’t moving. Jemma wasn’t sure he was breathing. All his attention was aimed below her chin.

Her own gaze was dragged lower as the tablet dropped with a clunk from his fingers to the floor.

The metallic air of the Bus tasted sharp when she sucked in a deep breath when her eyes reached his middle. The front of his pajama bottoms was tented out.

In light of new evidence, Jemma needed to upgrade her fantasies.

* * *

Fitz had known a lot of things when he’d woken from a sound sleep with the answer to a design problem. He’d still known them as he’d eagerly rushed to Jemma’s bunk and impatiently punched in the code for her door when it hadn’t automatically opened.

He’d walked in, and now he didn’t remember how his tongue worked.

Jemma had been uncovered, including one perfect, tawny-nippled tit, with her hand between her legs.

He’d had some fleeting thought about leaving, but his feet had forgotten how to move.

Then Jemma had moaned his name. Thoughts had become impossible at that point as the entirety of his blood volume had rushed to his groin.

Fitz couldn’t process that he’d seen her come. It had been a lot quieter than in his fantasies. Though, to be fair, usually, those involved her pussy and his tongue.

If she was going to hate him forever now for interrupting, he better get his fill of her. Too bad he hadn’t actually seen her cunt, that would have been a lifetime of wanking.

Not that her absolutely stunning breast wasn’t going to do the trick.

He should apologize when he could speak again coherently.

So sometime next decade.

The bunk was silent, and Fitz realized it had been for some time. And that Jemma had been staring at his hard prick for that entire, noiseless time.

It jerked and throbbed from her attention, and Fitz watched, mesmerized, as her nipples tightened against the thin material of her shirt. The toes of one foot, which was sticking out from under the quilt, curled.

“Jemma,” he said, his voice tremulous. “I think maybe you should tell me to go.”

“Huh?” She wiggled her rear, ever so slightly, against the bed. He felt the motion as if she was straddling his hips.

“I can’t do it on my own. Tell me to go.” He was an idiot. What was he saying?

She cupped her breast. “What if I don’t want you to?”

His imagination supplied thousands of possibilities in less than six seconds. “Then you’ll never be rid of me. I’m not doing this by halves. Either I walk out now, and we forget this, or we marry, have a family, and we grow old together.”

Fitz mentally kicked himself. The woman who was the center of his life might have wanted nothing more than a shag, which he could have supplied. But now he’d lost that chance. And if she only thought of him as just her good friend, he’d ruined that by blurting all his hopes out at once.

There was no forgetting this. Not for him. He’d have to transfer when she told him to leave. Work somewhere far, far away from her forever while leaving his heart behind. It was going to be so much worse now, knowing he didn’t mean anything to her, unlike what he’d been doing, which was fancying that sometimes he thought there was more in her face than--

Jemma’s lower lip trembled, and she opened her arms. “Fitz,” she murmured, and he rushed to her. There were a few moments of awkwardly placed limbs and in-the-way quilts before he was lying on his side, flush against her. Tears streaked down Jemma’s cheeks, and he tried to kiss them away, even as her fingers pushed at his pajama bottoms.

Finally, they were halfway down his thighs, and she hooked a leg over his hip before guiding his cock to her channel. He pushed his way in--she was very slick--until he was seated fully inside her.

Bloody hell, he was…they were…

“Jemma?”

* * *

The world had upended.

Jemma had thought Fitz imagined her as an annoying sister, but instead of being weirded out by finding her mid-wank, he’d told her either they forgot about whatever was happening or she was going to be with him forever.

The last part had always been a given.

Life wouldn’t be life without Fitz in it. Who else would bring her tea, made just right, when she’d been working too long? Or argue with her about…everything and nothing and who…

Fitz’s hips moved tentatively.

Who else would make her feel this ridiculously good just by having their cock in her?

He tried to find a rhythm, and the varying depth and angles he was exploring were all good, but there was one thing missing.

“You haven’t kissed me,” she said. “We’re…doing this, and we haven’t kissed.”

Fitz’s expression shifted to one of alarm, and he immediately pressed his lips to her. The next plunge of his cock hit something just right, and she moaned. Jemma grabbed his arse to make sure he kept moving exactly like that. Though once she had ahold of it, she found she didn’t want to let it go. Fitz’s arse had always been one of his best features.

And now she could squeeze it, which she happily did.

Her body was tightening towards another climax, and she was moaning shamelessly against Fitz’s mouth. His tongue pressed between her lips, and she eagerly welcomed it. His mouth was just right, soft lips that fit precisely with her own. She wanted to snog him for days.

Making love to Fitz was far, far better than anything her imagination had ever supplied. He was hitting the exact right spot inside her body with his cock, and he was pressed so tight against her that her clit was in on the action. He tasted like toothpaste and smelled like warm, slightly sweaty, Fitz, and when she opened her eyes to see him, the fierce expression of determination on his face was offset by the soft look in his eyes.

That was exactly as she’d dreamed it.

“Jemma,” he whispered, voice choked.

Her breathing hitched, and her thighs quivered. “Yes, Fitz.” Her climax caught her and sent plunging into bliss. It felt a trillion times better, approximately, to come with his cock deep inside her.

He groaned, kicked his pajama pants the rest of the way off, and rolled them over so she was on her back. The bunk creaked ominously, obviously not having been made for this sort of vigorous activity.

Jemma spread her legs wider and tangled her hands in Fitz’s hair as he pistoned into her. “Simmons,” he groaned. “I’m…oh fuck.” He froze, limbs trembling.

“Fitz?”

“Condom,” he squeaked.

“I’m on injectable birth control, and we have routine testing that, as the team’s medical officer, I have to review.”

“Simmons, you are amazing.”

“Hurry up and let me feel you come.”

Fitz made a lovely, happy, humming noise as he returned to thrusting. It didn’t take long before his muscles tightened, and he groaned. His hips stuttered, churned frantically, and finally stilled as his cock pulsed.

She curled around him, holding him as tight as she could.

* * *

Fitz thought he might be squishing Jemma. His cock was still inside her, and she was hanging onto him like a limpet.

He shifted slightly, and her hold miraculously tightened. “Don’t go,” she squeaked.

“Can I lay down?” There was a very long delay before her limbs loosened just enough for him to pull out—he was going to need to be inside her again very soon—and collapsed onto his back beside her.

Jemma climbed on top of him immediately, her knees digging into the sides of his thighs while her fingers dug into his biceps. “Don’t go,” she said again.

“Where would I go?” Fitz was very confused. All his dreams had just come true.

“Away. Not with me. I don’t know. I think…I mean…don’t let me leave you.”

“I’d like to think that wasn’t a bad enough shag for you to throw yourself off a plane over it.” His stomach felt funny as he said it, because he was never going to be quite over that. His arms banded around her.

Jemma laughed, though it trailed off into a sniffle as she snuggled her head against his chest. Her hair smelled of the SHIELD approved shampoo they used, and he wished he’d thought to take his shirt off so he could feel her better. Though they were both sweaty enough that they’d probably stick together.

There wasn’t anyone else he’d want to stick to.

It felt so comfortable to have everything settled between them and to know whatever else happened going forward, that they’d always be together, and that this was just the first of many, many nights they’d spend making love and cuddling.

“What are you thinking?” she asked softly.

“I’m processing. At the moment I’m very much enjoying the fact that you’ll be the only girl I’ll be with ever again.”

“That’s a lovely thought.”

“What about you?”

“I’m mostly going: ‘wow, my legs are jelly. Fitz made my legs jelly. I can’t walk.’ Followed by some hoping that you don’t need to pee soon so we can stay like this for ages.”

He chuckled. That was his Jemma, assessing the situation, and focusing on outcomes. “I don’t think I’ll need the loo anytime soon.” Something niggled in the back of his mind. “Oh, I didn’t get to tell you about the idea I had with the night-night pistol, but it depends on the pH of the dendrotoxin.”

Jemma both relaxed and perked up. “It has a certain range it can tolerate and still be effective. I can use a buffer to tweak it. What do you need?”

Fitz launched into his explanation, and Jemma interrupted for clarifications. It was completely and utterly normal. Except that they didn’t have pants on. Not a change he was going to complain about.

After ten minutes of good idea hashing, Jemma sat up, still straddling him. While she gestured with her hands emphatically about a point she was making--it had the effect of wiggling her sensitive bits against his sensitive bits and waking them up--Fitz took the opportunity to pull at the hem of her top. She stripped it off when he’d got it halfway up, and he lost track of what she was saying as he was presented with the breasts he’d managed to claim as his for the rest of time. Good for him.

Jemma stopped talking when he fastened his mouth around one peak and set about sucking it into a hard point. He lifted his hips to make sure she understood what he was on about. Jemma disliked ambiguity.

A flood of wetness was the response, along with a throaty moan, and he congratulated himself on his excellent communication skills.

Jemma had complimented him before on his oral skills during presentations, and he was sure she’d do so again, as soon as he could indicate he’d like her to sit on his face.

* * *

Jemma woke up in a fabulous mood. They’d be arriving in Nairobi for refueling soon, and Coulson had said there was a possible 084 they were heading towards.

She was relaxed and happy, and there was work to be done on the night-night pistols.

Fitz was groggier than her, but she’d always been partial to early-morning Fitz with his cow-licked hair and shuffling gait. It was even better now Jemma knew she’d have her morning-zombie to bring back to life with tea for the rest of forever.

Fitz would meet her in the lab, and Jemma had a bounce in her step and two mugs of tea in her hands as she entered after the doors whisked open.

“You’re chipper,” Skye said, standing in the middle of the room with her arms crossed. “I didn’t expect it after you and Fitz kept each other up so late last night.”

Jemma’s face burned. Perhaps Skye had just heard them talking? “There was an idea we had about how to improve the night-night pistol and needed to work it out.”

Skye’s brows crept upward. “You’re going to improve the night-night pistol with vigorous sex?”

“Well, no.”

Fitz shambled in with a yawn. “Tea,” he grumbled, grabbing his mug and taking a long drink.

“How are you planning to get around section seventeen?” Skye asked.

Fitz sputtered. “Good morning, Skye.”

She made a face at him.

Jemma straightened up. She’d prepared for this question. “It’s simple. You just have to look at sub-section c. Fitz asked me to marry him last night, and we will file for dispensation, which I’m sure Agent Coulson will grant, as we’re serving together in a sci-tech capacity and are not special operations agents.”

Skye squealed loudly, and Fitz looked confused.

“Congratulations!” She hugged Jemma. “Do you have a date?”

“As soon as possible, perhaps you can see what the requirements are in Nairobi? Or maybe there are SHIELD procedures?”

“Of course!” She gave Fitz a quick hug as well. Jemma turned in tandem with Fitz to sip tea while they watched Skye charge up the stairs.

“Jemma,” Fitz said carefully. “When did I ask you to marry me?”

She glanced out of the side of her eye at him. “Last night? You said either I told you to leave, or we’d be together forever. I picked the latter. You cited marriage, children, and growing old together, and I accepted your proposal.”

Fitz sagged in clear relief. “Right. I thought I’d somehow forgotten.” His smile was beatific while the steam from his tea caressed his face. “I was preoccupied.”

“Boobs?” she asked, rather proud she could distract such a brilliant mind so easily.

He hemmed an agreement. “Boobs.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are loved and given cookies. [ @sunalsolove ](https://sunalsolove.tumblr.com)


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